


This Means War

by Sugargutz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:22:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8495059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugargutz/pseuds/Sugargutz
Summary: Akaashi will not stoop to their level, he won't.Ok, so what if he does? They started it.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Aka don't fuck with the cutie upstairs.

Akaashi doesn’t understand. He’s looking down at the picked apart remains of his once perfect creation and he’s so _confused_. The indecency of it all is what gets him the most. The act it's unforgivable, heinous.

The flecks of icing that have been purposefully flicked to the side. The edible rose petals he took hours to perfect are crushed against the pan and he just simply stares.

It can’t be the birds, they’ve never been a problem before and Akaashi has lived in this apartment for a good two years. Both of those, this has never happened. There’s no wild animals because he lives on the top floor, and the pan has shallow indents across the bottom.

Meaning _someone_ took the time to cut it with a knife.

“It melts right in your mouth!”

Appalled, Akaashi grips the pan and listens to the morons a floor below him continue to speak. Their voices float upwards and make his blood boil.

“Bo, I feel kind of bad…”

“Why?”

“Isn’t this like a felony?”

_Yes._

“Don’t worry about it man! I’m sure they’ll just think a animal ate it.”

Some snickering and the silver foil ripples under his terse fingers. He looks up and stares at the sun that’s started to set in the distance. Rather dramatically, Akaashi promises to never forget this.

 

* * *

 

Next time he bakes a cake; colored in warm festive shades, he takes the time to add a little something special. There isn’t an ounce of mercy in his eyes as he sets it out on the balcony. The icing looks so delectable and he knows the smell is luring, because he can here the door beneath him slide on its track.

Akaashi goes back inside, draws the shades, and takes a seat.

This time the sound of rowdy laughter and metal clinking can be heard. It amazes him how he didn’t hear this last time. “Be careful!” Comes the concerned voice of yesterday’s guilty assailant. There’s a few hushed words and then the sound of more clanking.

“Got it!” the one with no conscious cheers.

After a few minutes the sound of silverware clinking can be heard, and Akaashi relishes in it. He leans back into his chair and cracks a smile. They _moan_ and praise the cake intensely. Normally that would make even someone such as himself flustered, but he doesn’t pay any mind. Their praises were meaningless.

“Hey bro, you’ve got something on your face.”

“Huh? Where?”

“Here.”

The forks stop hitting the plate, and soon he hears a wet smack. The type only a kiss could bring.

 _Oh_ , Akaashi thinks, so they’re _partners_ in crime.

It doesn’t take long for the little added ingredient to kick in. Because nothing overpowers the sound of neighborly betrayal quite like stomach’s gurgling. Instead of moans of pleasured taste buds he hears groans of discomfort. Sadistic as it is, It’s like music to his ears.

The pan goes flying to the ground and he can hear them scrambling for the door. No doubt two bulky guys lodged between the tiny space of the doorway in a mad attempt to get to the bathroom. It’s delightful.

“Babe, I love you, but if you don't move I will take our cat and leave.”

“No way! I gotta go!”

The night is filled with restless flushing and Akaashi even has time to make a third cake.

This one goes untouched.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retaliation

The mailman was a small and delightful man.

He wore silver rimmed glasses with circular frames and made speedy deliveries to every door. A package never went unaccounted for. Akaashi was an early bird, he went to sleep early, woke up early. He answered the door before it could even be touched. And with the same man who usually had a pleasant thing to say; how much his wife adored his cakes.

Today was different.

Akaashi stood under the pulsing water, ran his fingers through soap infused hair and hummed. Never sang.

He was rushing, wouldn’t even let the conditioner sit before rinsing it out thoroughly. He’d taken such great pleasure in last night’s flushing triathlon, he’d barely gotten a wink of sleep. That happened when you stared at the floor, smirking, and finishing up a red velvet slice till the toilet went quiet.

A pair of shoes were thrust on, heels pushing into the floor and sparing no time for laces. Keys were in the same place as always they always were. Dangling off a hook directly beside the door, should anyone move them, there’d be hell to pay. He snatches those up and his phone too.

 The door is swung open and in his haste, he almost trips over the little brown box on his porch. Both brows pinch together. Strange, he thinks as he bends down. There wasn’t a knock? With no time left, he gathers it in his arms and takes off down the stairs.

Oblivious to the two men who snicker and hand a twenty over to that, _delightful_ little mailman.

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi opened doors to this shop just last year.

It had been a rocky road, but he did it.

The quaint little bakery on fifth had closed its doors since 95’ and was on the verge of being demolished. In stepped an amateur baker, in way over his head, and with just enough money to keep the place standing. Getting ownership had been an entirely different story.

He’d dealt with sharks, prowling nasty men with money and the need for ruble covered lots. He fought, paid more than he had, and somehow got the place all to himself. There was a lot riding on him. A lot of debt, but he figured—if he could do that, he can do this too.

Luckily, people enjoyed sweets.

They liked cakes. Tiny-detailed-gooey goodness that came on delicate trays. They liked candies, chocolates, foreign treats. Things this place could provide and _more_. More than anything, people liked the atmosphere.

How _warm_ it was, spring, summer, fall, winter. The seasons shifted, but the interior always managed to keep it’s trademark vibe, toasty and friendly.

Perhaps the chilliest thing in there was Akaashi himself.

He never meant it. The resting cynical look of, _can I help you?_ Just couldn’t be shook off.

That’s why he left the register to Hinata. Someone who couldn’t sit for longer than a minute and could smile from the time he clocked in to clocking out. People liked him, he had a megawatt grin and could have your order brought over before you could even pronounce it.

“Fun night?”

Akaashi blinks and looks up.

Same redhead manning the counter, but beside him is a coworker who was busy cleaning out a frosting tool.

A considerable pause.

Then a grin of his own, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Kenma was quieter. He didn’t walk as fast as Hinata; he didn’t speak up like the other could, but he was _good_ with icing. Those hands of his didn’t shake. They worked with precision and got things done and went beyond.

Hinata’s lips split in a wide smile. His eyes are owlish, blinking as he leans over the transparent counter and reaches. Aiming a finger at the contents in Akaashi’s arms. Both boys are curious, it’s written all over their faces

“What’s in the box?”

Another furrow as he looks down too.

“I don’t really know…”

“Open it! Open it!”

“Hinata, that’s not polite.”

A pout comes, just as it always does when being scolded. He backs off and doesn’t press any further, but that doesn’t stop him from dancing in between feet and eyeing the sealed off contents as if there were lost treasures inside.

The one cradling the object of his desires rolls his eyes and sees it can’t be helped. Even though he doesn’t outright say it, there’d be nothing but, “Akaashi, ever open that box? Did ya’ take a peek inside, Akaashi?”

There weren’t many people inside yet. They’d just opened, but that didn’t take away from the fact; people were _inside_.  He sits it on a table top and searches for something sharp to break the seal. Hinatas on it in a snap, slipping a box cutter into his grasp without so much as being told.

A brief look of exasperation is given where it’s earned.

He pushes the blade up with his thumb, hitting the button on the side. It’s shallow tip withdrawals and he aims it on the tape. He’s done this a billion times, with inventory, packages from family. He doesn’t even check the label because things like this came in constantly.

However, he’s never received a mouthful of shaving cream before.

Things go quiet.

Pieces drip off his chin, eyebrows, and nose as he stars downward. There’s no anger, or confusion. He’s still looking at the spot where he made the cut as if he’d be greeted with a new mug. Someone beside the dripping owner intakes a small hiss of air. It's the only sound that comes for the longest stretch of time, because no one can make sense of the white foamy mask. 

The box cutter is set down.

Akaashi wipes his face with his sleeve and leaves with a piece of paper clutched in his hand. His grip is tight. 

“W-wait! Akaashi!” Hinata calls out, beyond stunned.

Kenma’s eyes are wide as he looks at the destroyed wall behind where he once stood.

The bell jingles over the door and whispering between costumers commences.

“I’m calling in sick.”

 

Settled nicely on the springs of a well-made catapult is a note.

A white square with several lipstick-kiss-stains on it and a message.

**Game on, punk.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto did the smoochin'.


End file.
